Sway (Landry Family #1)(58)

“I think Graham has a point,” Nolan says finally, standing up. “If you’re hell-bent on seeing this thing through, let’s run with it. Just until the election. It’s not like you’re seriously going to marry this girl or anything.”

Something about the way he says that burns me. I stand too, my chair smacking the wall behind my desk. Graham notices my demeanor and inserts himself before I can blow.

“Exactly,” he says, assuaging Nolan. “So let’s convince Alison this is the right thing and just roll with it until Barrett is finished.” He raises his eyebrows at me, his way of trying to keep me calm.

My chest heaves with frustration as I watch them walk to the door. Nolan turns to face me before he exits.

“You’re going to need to convince her of this pretty quick so we can get our statement out and beat Hobbs to the punch. You know his guys are working on it now.”

Once he’s gone, Graham turns to me. “This is the best I can come up with. I knew this day was coming and I don’t know how else to let you have what you want and keep you from blowing everything in the meantime.”

My shoulders sag forward and I drop my eyes. Guilt trickles through me because he’s right—this election doesn’t just have my dreams attached to its success, but a host of other people’s too.

When I look back up, he’s gone. I buzz Rose to let her know to hold my calls and cancel my appointments for the rest of the day. I text Troy to pick me up out front. Once I’m in the Rover, I call Alison.

On the third ring, she picks up. I grin as soon as I hear her say hello.

“Hey, it’s me,” I say as Troy swerves through traffic towards her house.

“I was just thinking about you.”

I take a large gulp of air. This could blow back in my face so bad, I know it. I feel it in the pit of my stomach. But it does seem like the most logical solution, and truth be told, I want to be with her. Making up my mind once and for all, I go all in. “Are you home?”

“Yeah, I’m just finishing up a bunch of homework. Why?”

“Would it be okay if I swung by for a minute? I want to talk to you.”

“Uh, yeah,” she says. “Is everything okay?”

“It’s fine. Just want to run a few things by you.”

“I’m here,” she says, trying to sound confident.

I laugh because I’m trying to be sure this will work out too. “I’ll be there in a second.”

The Rover scurries through thankfully light late afternoon traffic and, before I know it, we’re pulling up to a little white house with black shutters. I dart out the door and race up the steps, knocking a handful of rapid beats before Alison pulls it open.

She stands in front of me in a pair of jeans with holes in the knees and a light green shirt. She looks like she should be fixing dinner in the kitchen, helping Hux with his homework, and waiting on me to come home for dinner.

I shake the thoughts away because the conversation that’s getting ready to happen could end that visual forever.

“Hey,” she says, a lilt to her voice that lets me know she’s as anxious as I am.

“Hey,” I say, entering the house. It smells like her, like vanilla and cotton, and is decorated in a warm, homey way that makes me feel welcome immediately. “Is Huxley here?”

She shakes her head.

Knowing we’re alone and this might not end well, I can’t pass up the opportunity to kiss her. I begin to pull her to me, but she melts into my chest. Our lips find each other, like they could in the dark, and I memorize every movement, every tug, every feeling of peace she gives me by being her.

She leads me into the living room and we sit on a worn sofa. I think about saying something nice about her home and how pretty she looks, but I can tell she hasn’t seen the article and I don’t want to put it off any longer than necessary.

“So,” I say, taking a deep breath. “Apparently someone snapped a picture last night of you and Linc entering the Farm.”

Her face blanches and her eyes go wide. “How? Where?”

I shrug. “It’s in the Dispatch. It’s of Linc and Troy mostly, but you can see you. Your face isn’t super clear, but it’s you.”

I give her time to process this before pushing the issue. She looks away, to a picture of her and Hux when he was much smaller, her eyes filling with tears. But they don’t fall.

“I’m sorry,” I say, the words making me want to die. “I know this is what you didn’t want.”

She nods her head and doesn’t look at me. It’s like a knife in my heart.

“It’s not the pictures in the paper exactly,” she says finally, her words barely above a whisper.

“Then what is it?”

“It’s protecting Huxley’s privacy more than anything,” she says distantly. “But it’s . . . more than that.” When she looks at me, the sparkle in her eyes is gone. There are tight lines around her mouth letting me know she’s in pain. “When I think of the media, it terrifies me. I have panic attacks, Barrett. It took a couple of years after I left New Mexico to be able to even leave the house without shaking and being ready to puke.”

“I’ll never let anything happen to you, Alison.”

She doesn’t tell me she knows I’m right. She doesn’t say anything at all.